


Chosen

by zelda_zee



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a god wants you, it’s pretty hard to say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chosen

**Author's Note:**

> For bachlava. The prompt was "Bruce/Thor, a languid afternoon". Only it didn't turn out to be so very languid. Movieverse.

There is a moment, when Thor first backs him up against the wall, takes his face between those big hands and bends down to kiss him, when Bruce thinks, _I could stop this, I could say no_ , and then Thor draws back and smiles at him, a smile of sheer delight, and it’s as if a door to a very dark place has been flung open and sunlight is streaming through, radiant.

And Bruce, who has never kissed a man, let alone done anything more intimate than that with one, closes his eyes and sinks into the warmth and light that Thor offers, without even a murmur of protest.

Afterward, he feels more relaxed than he has in ages, his mind blessedly empty, his body throbbing distractingly in unaccustomed places. This is – insane, he knows it is. It’s nothing that he’s ever thought he’d want or imagined he’d do. But Thor is irresistible. Physically, yes, strong and huge and painfully handsome, but there’s something else that draws Bruce that is not purely physical. Bruce, ever the skeptic, tries and fails not to think of it as _spirit_ , but spirit is the only name that he can put to it. Thor exudes a wild, unfettered joy, and it is utterly irresistible to a man like Bruce for whom joy is a rare and precious thing

Thor turns to him, his eyes heavy, his lips reddened from kisses and more. The late afternoon sunlight from the open window falls on him and he reflects it back, just as bright and golden. Drawn by that light Bruce reaches out a hand to touch his shoulder then pulls back, hesitant, despite what they have just done.

“Do you fear to touch me?” Thor says, turning onto his side to face Bruce and nestling into the pillow. “I would not have it so.” He takes Bruce’s hand and places it flat on his chest. Bruce can feel the solid thump of Thor’s heart against his palm, the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his skin. He traces the curve of muscle, the pads of his fingers brushing the peak of a nipple. Thor is remarkable, beautiful, inhumanly perfect. Bruce knows that he is unimpressive in comparison, an ordinary-looking human man. He cannot fathom Thor’s evident desire for him, the fond warmth of his gaze, the way his breath catches when Bruce rubs over his nipple again, deliberately this time.

Thor stretches languidly, a rumbling purr emanating from his chest, and now Bruce cannot stop touching, all that golden skin on display for him, calling out to be appreciated. He smoothes a hand over Thor’s flank, down his thigh. There is more that he wants to touch – the thatch of curly blond hair at his crotch that glints in the sunlight, Thor’s cock, still mostly erect, never having softened after their recent activity, his balls that look heavy and full, though Bruce can feel Thor’s come drying on his thighs. He can’t quite bring himself to touch though. It’s still too strange, too new. 

“What troubles you?” Bruce looks up to find Thor watching him, a wrinkle of concern on his brow.

“Nothing,” Bruce says. He swallows, then decides to come clean. “I’ve never done this before. With a man.”

“I know.” Bruce’s eyes widen in surprise. Thor shrugs. “It was not hard to tell.”

“Oh.” Bruce colors, thinking how inept he must have appeared. “Sorry about that.”

Thor brushes Bruce’s cheekbone with his knuckles. “You owe no apology. You gave me much pleasure. And it was an honor to be the first to take you.”

Bruce feels the heat on his face deepen at the casual way Thor throws out that term – _take_. Bruce has never thought of sex in that context, never conceived of himself as someone who could be _taken_. Yet even through his discomfort, he can’t ignore the frisson of renewed arousal that Thor’s words bring on. 

Thor is watching him, a knowing smile on his face. 

“Do you wish to be taken again?”

“I. Um.” Bruce has no words to answer that question. “Oh man,” he sighs with a little laugh, covering his face with his hands, embarrassed and completely out of his depth.

Thor chuckles, taking him by the wrists and pulling his hands away. “Because I would have you again, Bruce Banner.” Thor releases him and moves close, his eyes intent. “If you would have me.”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” Bruce says breathlessly. He’s sore, but what the hell. When a god wants you, it’s pretty hard to say no.

Thor rolls on top of him and fits their pelvises together, starts a slow, dirty grind. Bruce’s eyes flutter closed, his hands fisting the sheets.

“I will take you in my mouth first,” Thor says, and Bruce’s breath catches in his throat. He hadn’t imagined that would be on offer, and the thought of it, Thor swallowing him down, pink lips stretched around him… “Unless you prefer me not to.”

“No, I – that would be fine. Would be great. I –” He breaks off when he catches Thor’s teasing smile.

“They are few indeed, in this world or any other, who would not wish my mouth upon them,” Thor says, brushing soft kisses on Bruce’s closed eyes, his nose, his lips. Thor says it as a matter of fact, which Bruce supposes that it is. Bruce does not know why Thor has chosen him, of all the people he could have. He’s not sure he wants to know.

Thor’s lips are soft, his beard a tickle that makes Bruce’s skin tighten wherever it touches. Thor’s big, warm hands frame his ribs, thumbs rubbing back and forth over his nipples. He dips his head to Bruce’s stomach, tonguing his navel, and Bruce’s heart is pounding in his chest as a sweet ache flows through him. The probing touch of Thor’s tongue, the tug of his fingers – Bruce feels them in his cock, like there’s an electrified wire connecting all of his hot spots, lighting everything up at once. He grasps Thor’s forearms, just to have something to hold onto, wraps his legs around Thor’s torso. He’s getting hard again, and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s gone so long without that he’s just that desperate for it, or if there’s something about Thor, some Asgardian pheromone that’s giving Bruce the stamina of a younger man.

“God!” he gasps, when Thor’s mouth envelopes him, volcanically hot, deliciously wet. He forgets to breathe, arching up off the bed with a moan, his hands unconsciously going to Thor’s head, pulling on his hair. Thor makes a deep, growling noise around his cock and takes him in deeper, so Bruce decides he must like it. He certainly hopes so, because Thor’s mouth is a revelation and the things he does with it are indescribably filthy and lewd and good. They make Bruce want to sing Thor’s praises, but all he can do is babble incoherent encouragement and pant and groan and try fruitlessly to push up against the wide hands holding his hips firmly down to the bed.

Thor does something spectacular with his tongue and Bruce’s muscles go rigid, his whole body flushing hot with the building need for release, tension twisting between his hips, and a spurt of precome that has Thor worrying at Bruce’s slit with the tip of his tongue until he’s writhing, out of his mind. He thinks he might die when Thor chooses that moment to cease, drawing back enough to smile up at Bruce.

“Please,” Bruce pants, “Don’t stop. Please.”

“I would have you now,” Thor says, voice beautifully deep and scratchy and with an air of command to it that will not be denied. “I wish for you to ride me.”

Bruce makes some kind of senseless, overwhelmed sound. He can’t even see straight, can’t form a coherent thought, let alone muster up the coordination for _that_ , especially as he’s never before attempted anything of the sort. Thor gives him no chance to demur though, flipping them easily and settling Bruce on top of him, straddling his hips. Something nudges at his hole and then there are fingers, wet and slippery, two from the feel of them, huge inside him and yet nowhere near as large as what will soon be filling him. Bruce can’t help but moan at the thought, arching to push back, surprised at the hunger that grips him. He feels swollen and sensitized, muscles stretched and sore, yet he wants it, wants more, wants it again.

“And you shall have it,” Thor says, which throws Bruce for a moment, until he realizes he’d been verbalizing those thoughts. His face heats, but when Thor twists his hand, he throws his head back, groans, “ _yes_ ”, bearing down, taking everything Thor gives him.

Then Thor’s fingers are gone and for a moment Bruce is horribly empty, but then he feels Thor’s cock pushing at his rim and Thor’s hand is firm on his hip, guiding him down. Bruce gasps at the stretch and it comes out sounding like a sob. He feels like he’s being split in two, caught between bright twinges of pain and bone-deep pulses of intense pleasure. He tries to pause to take a moment to adjust but Thor plants his feet and tilts his pelvis up, fits his other hand over Bruce’s hip with a heavy, implacable grip and makes him take it all in one slow, impossibly deep slide. Bruce braces his hands on Thor’s shoulders, shuddering as he sinks the final few inches, feeling Thor so far up inside him that he can hardly breathe.

After a minute, he tries moving, hips rocking in miniscule motions, fingers digging into Thor’s flesh at the sensation of unbearable fullness. He feels it more keenly than the first time, when he was maybe too overwhelmed by the shock and the novelty of the act to truly feel what was happening to him. Thor’s hands skim up and down his sides, slide around to cup his buttocks and squeeze, forcing him down further and holding him there, his cock touching a place deep inside that makes Bruce feel like he’s about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

“ _Thor_ ,” Bruce says, and it comes out as a whine, thready and strung tight.

Thor cants his hips, grinding into that place again and again and Bruce whimpers, his whole body shaking. “I am here,” Thor says. “Inside you. Filling you. Move on me. Take your pleasure of me.”

Bruce does, rising up, shoving himself down, too far gone to be as careful as he should be, the sinuous rolling motion of his hips unfamiliar yet instinctual. He would never have imagined this is how it would feel; bright and powerful, his body filling with heat and energy. Thor’s fingers skate over his skin, sparking his nerve endings like electricity. Thor curls up, his hand at the back of Bruce’s head pulling him down for a deep, messy kiss and Bruce falls into it, lets Thor take what he wants, lets Thor’s tongue plunder and his hand press at the small of his back, guiding him into hard, fast thrusts that make Bruce’s mouth go slack and his eyes roll back in his head.

Bruce cries out when Thor wraps his hand around his cock, stroking him fast and sure. Thor’s hand is rough, calluses that drag deliciously against Bruce’s skin and he trembles, his eyes squeezing shut, breath catching in little hitching sobs. He’s quaking with it, orgasm coiling tightly in his groin and Thor rumbles, _yes, yes, I have you_ and _give it to me_ and Bruce is _gone_ , exploding in a white-out of ferocious pleasure, shooting ropes of come over Thor’s hand and onto his belly, uncontrolled sounds forcing their way out of him as his body lights up in waves, pulses of it running down his spine, over his hips, into his pelvis.

He’s still in the throes of his climax when Thor rolls them so that Bruce is face down on the bed, pushes his legs out wide and enters him again. Bruce is caught by surprise at the intensity of being filled and fucked through the aftermath of orgasm, his hips rising involuntarily. He moans shamelessly, his mind hazy, splashes of color bursting against the backs of his eyelids with each of Thor’s thrusts. Thor pounds into him for a scant few moments before his teeth dig into Bruce’s shoulder, a sharp, visceral pain as he freezes, shuddering at Bruce’s back. Bruce hisses at the sensation of Thor coming deep inside him, pulsing against sensitive flesh, a subtle bloom of heat.

Thor rests his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder, his chest heaving, then pulls out with a deep sigh, and Bruce winces at the ache he leaves behind. He’s not sure how long he’ll be feeling it, but he is certain he’ll carry the sensation of Thor inside him for at least a day. The idea doesn’t bother him as much as he’d expect it to.

Thor flops down next to him and brushes damp hair off of his face. Bruce cannot move, not a single muscle. For a while, there is no sound but their breathing and Bruce considers just letting himself doze off and ignoring the niggling question that’s been bothering him since Thor first kissed him.

“Okay, so I’ve got to know,” he says, finally. “Why me?”

Thor turns to look at him, confusion on his face. “Why you?”

“Yeah, why me? Out of everyone, why me?” Bruce quirks his lip in a rueful grin. “You’re a god – or something very close to one. And me – I’m really nobody special.”

Thor reaches out to smooth back the hair that has fallen across Bruce’s face. It’s a gentle, affectionate gesture and it makes something twist painfully in Bruce’s chest. He has to close his eyes against it for a minute, until the feeling passes.

“You match me,” Thor says simply, when Bruce looks at him again.

“I – _what_?” Because that makes no sense. Bruce is no match for Thor, not in any way of which he can conceive.

“When we battled on the helicarrier, you matched me,” Thor explains. “You might have even bested me, had we not been interrupted. You may not realize how rare a thing that is, my friend, that I encounter anyone who poses even the slightest challenge. I thought we would be well-matched off of the field of battle as well.” He smiles. “I was not mistaken.”

Bruce leans up on his elbows. He needs to pull himself together because Thor has it all wrong and he has to make him see, even if it means that this whole thing has been based on a mistake. “But Thor – that’s not _me_. When we fought, that was the – the other guy – the Hulk. It’s not me.”

“Of course it’s you,” Thor scoffs. “Do not deny yourself, Doctor. It is beneath you.”

“I would never fight you,” Bruce insists. “I would never do those things. Really, you’ve got to believe me, it’s not me.”

Thor watches him for a long moment, holding his eyes. “You are afraid.”

“Of him? You bet I’m afraid.” Bruce rolls onto his back and flings an arm over his eyes. “Everyone’s afraid. You’d have to be crazy not to be.”

“I am not afraid,” Thor states emphatically. “Tony Stark is not afraid. I do not believe the Captain is either.”

“Yeah, but you guys are crazy.”

“You are mighty, and resplendent in battle,” Thor says, drawing Bruce’s arm away so Bruce is forced to look at him. Thor is sitting up, gazing down into his face, very serious, very sincere. “None can stand against you. You triumphed over my brother, one of the most powerful sorcerers in the history of Asgard. You triumphed over the Chitauri. You saved the life of Tony Stark when he fell from the sky. These were not the deeds of some mindless beast. They are _your_ deeds. They have _your_ will behind them. Why do you seek to deny this?”

“Because there are so many things that he – that _I_ \- did that were –” He glances at Thor, then has to look away at the concern he sees on his face. “Really bad. There were a lot of really bad things. If I did the good things, then that means I did the bad things too. And that – well, I’ve found that that is really hard to live with.”

“But that dark time has ended,” Thor says. “And now you fight at the side of your shield brothers, battling evil. There is no longer anything to fear.”

“Isn’t there?” Bruce asks. “Seems to me, any time I think I’ve got a handle on it, something happens to prove me wrong.”

“You will see,” Thor says confidently, settling down beside Bruce, wrapping an arm around his waist. It is heavy, but Bruce doesn’t mind. “You are no longer alone in your struggles. In time, you will come to see this is true.”

Bruce does not reply, and in a few minutes Thor’s breath deepens as he drifts into sleep. Bruce lies awake for a long time as the shadows lengthen and dusk falls, Thor’s words echoing in his head. He feels himself wanting to give in and believe what Thor says, but he can’t, long held and hard won habit warning him that it’s never that easy.

Then Thor pulls him closer, and Bruce is enveloped into his warmth, feeling surrounded and, ridiculous as it may be, protected.

“Stop thinking,” Thor mumbles sleepily into Bruce’s ear. He nips softly at Bruce’s earlobe. “I would have you well-rested, for I will want you again when we wake.”

“Hate to tell you, big guy,” Bruce says, clenching experimentally and wincing at the deep ache that results. “But I don’t think I’m in any shape to be able to do that again any time soon.”

“It is of no matter,” Thor says around a yawn, nuzzling his face into Bruce’s hair. “The next time we couple, you shall take me.”

Thor sighs, and a moment later emits a quiet snore, but Bruce still lays awake, his mind now filled with thoughts of a different nature, far more pleasing but not at all conducive to sleep.


End file.
